“What were you going to serve if I had a shellfish allergy?” He’s done with his lobster and already eyeballing mine.
“I don’t know, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? I was leaving that part to Jayne. She’s the one that helped me set this up.”
A quiet moment passes between us. He lightly places the utensils across his plate before clearing his throat.
He asks softly, “Is it hard?”
I’m caught off guard and I look around, wondering what he’s referring to.
“I’m sorry?”
“Leaving. Making friends with people and purposefully leaving. Is it hard?”
Unsure of my answer, I take a sip of my wine instead and roll the question over, revisiting the memories of the last two years.
Gently, I swirl the liquid in my glass and focus on the motion and say, “Honestly, I don’t think I stayed long enough to make those sort of friendships. It works out that I leave when things are on a good note and with social media, I can keep in touch with pretty much anyone. Trying to reconnect with Will is far harder.” I look at him.
“You’ve seemed to make a good friend with Jayne,” he says.
I nod and set my glass on the table. “Yeah, that happened quickly. It’s never happened before.” It’ll be hard leaving here. That realization renders me breathless and now I understand why I struggled so with my run. Even then, almost two weeks ago, I was feeling more comfortable here than anywhere I’ve been yet. The connections here are greater, not better, but stronger, and knocking me off my stride.
“But what about home? People you’ve known for a long time.”
I wonder why he’s asking these questions. This guy who dreamed of leaving but never did. His history is here and nowhere else, whereas I have left a piece of me, no matter had small or insignificant, in different places.
“Funny enough, I don’t miss anyone from home with the exception of some older relatives and my parents. I didn’t have a lot of friends there.” I roll my eyes. “But Lord, my mother. Why I miss her, I’ll never know. She drives me nuts. But by being away from them I have Will again and I really missed him.”
He leans forward, takes my fork, and finishes off my lobster.
“When he left I felt like a part of me was gone too. I felt so alone.” I’m lost in the images of my past. It’s like hearing an old song on the radio and being transported back in time. “What about you and Vann? Aren’t you close?”
“Yeah, but it’s different. I’ve been Vann’s brother and his parent. I knew when he was born that it would be up to me to protect him. Pretty serious business for a five-year old.”
“Was it terrible? Your childhood?” Will he meet me half way? “Are we going to eat that cake or talk about shit that’s depressing as hell? Because if I had a vote, and I think I should since it’s my birthday and all, I’d vote on the cake.”
“Nice deflection.” I stand and bring the cake to the table, place a two and eight candle in the cake, and light it.
“How’d you know how old I was?”
“Just like I knew where you lived. I memorized your driver’s license, Brinn No-Middle Name McRae. Make a wish.” I step aside and present the cake with a flourish. He turns his chair, and grabs me, fitting me between his legs.
Our eyes meet and a current of energy crackles and sparks between us.
“A wish, huh?” His voice is low and sexy.
“Make it a good one.”
With a quick puff, he blows out the candles. He slides his hands up my legs, beneath my shorts and a primal moan escapes me. “I really hope it comes true.” I wrap my arms around his neck.
He stands and lifts me to straddle him. “There’s a good chance it will,” he says before kissing my piercing.
“I hope you didn’t waste your wish on me.” I arch as he travels kisses across my jaw and down my neck.
He lays me down on the platform chair and I tremble with anticipation. “Nothing about you is a waste.”
Sixteen
Today, for lack of a better expression, has sucked major balls. But even saying that doesn’t sound bad enough. Today, more than any day so far since living in Daytona, I want to pack my shit and hit the road. Turning my back on everything in this stupid state would be a wise move.
All because Will stood me up.
I knew it was too good to be true when he texted and asked if I wanted to hang out. All the previous offer’s I’d made to do the same were met with a quick and decisive no. But today he reached out. Today we were going to hang at the beach and I was going to work up the courage to ask him all the questions that’d been with me since he left.
Why did you leave?
Why wouldn’t you let me help?
Why am I so easy to forget?
But with my picnic basket loaded full of gourmet sandwiches and snacks, I sat on my blanket and waited over an hour past our rendezvous time. I’d even taken the day off from work.
Nothing.
I text him one simple question.
Will?
Sorry is all I get.
I dump the food in the garbage by the boardwalk and ride my bike home so fast and furiously that I don’t feel the tears on my cheek until I pull into the driveway.
I don’t understand.
I thought I was done grieving for him, but every time he pulls away, it’s as if the wound is flayed open again.
I lose my shit in the shower. Sitting in the corner with the hot spray beating down I let it all out. Sob until I am deplete of tears or energy. I’m not sure which.
The only way to cope with this is to make a plan, so after my shower I boot up my laptop, and after a brief search, I find a cruise line job that I apply for. The timing is perfect as I have my lease until the beginning of September, which is when Mark’s daughter is scheduled to take over. In case I need further proof that Karma exists, the cruise line training is scheduled to start (if I get the job) that same week.
Planning doesn’t get more perfect than that.
The likely truth of this whole situation is that there is no place for me in Will’s life. The sooner I accept that the sooner I can get about the business of making my own life. Wherever that may be. I no longer need to seek him out and pick my destinations accordingly.
So for now, work will be a distraction I’ll take. Not willing to linger over my broken heart and somewhat energized by having a plan in place, I dress and set out to enjoy these last few weeks I have here. Starting with Brinn.
I’m pulling in the office parking lot as Brinn is walking out. I cut the wheel to make a sharp turn and park, my steering belt emitting a high pitch squeal. I do a thumbs up and smile at Brinn through the windshield, laughing as he shakes his head at me.
“Hey,” I say, climbing out of the car.
He looks me up and down before he asks, “You got any spare clothes in that car of yours?”
I look down at my outfit. I’d kept my hair casual, capturing it in a long fat braid.
My long jean skirt and white T-shirt are so simple they’re almost uninspiring. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? Holy shit, this is conservative. I refuse to—”
He walks to me and puts his lips to mine, effectively shutting me up. Who is this handsome stranger who is at such ease with his public displays of affection? His phone rests beneath my palm, silent in his vest pocket. A little light of happiness charges through me, dissipating the aches. A little. “You look fine,” he says before nibbling on my lip.